Page 52 of Property of Zombie

“Not an inch.”

He sighs heavily. “Fine. Then at least let me have one of my brothers escort you to and from work. You don’t have your truck anyway, so you’ll need a ride.”

“That’s fine,” I say. “To and from work, though. That’s it. I don’t need an escort beyond the parking lot.”

Seemingly on board with my demand, Zombie nods. “Undertaker will drive you to and from in the SUV.”

“Not his bike?”

He growls, low and deadly. “If another man puts you on the back of their bike, they won’t live to talk about it.”

His possessive tone sends shocks of sensation skittering from one nerve ending to the next. “No bike rides… got it.”

Zombie reaches out a hand and snags my arm to haul me against him. “You’re mine, Lucy.”

“Yes.”

“My bike is the only one you’ll be riding,” he reiterates. “My waist is the only one you’ll wrap your arms around.”

“Yes.”

He leans down to press his lips to my collarbone. “Say it,” he demands.

“I’m yours,” I breathe.

“And?”

“I won’t ride on the back of another man’s bike.”

“And?”

“I won’t wrap my arms around another man’s waist.”

“And?”

“And what? That’s all you said.”

Zombie sinks his teeth into my shoulder, and the flash of pain morphs into a shock of pleasure. “And?” he prods.

“You’re mine,” I say, not knowing what else he wants from me.

“Good girl.”